


Blue on Blue

by jentaro



Series: wedding planner au [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, here's some wild fluff for yall, it's not Mentioned but it's important that you know this, jaskier is transmasc nonbinary here folks, this boy knows his STUFF, wedding planner eskel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jentaro/pseuds/jentaro
Summary: "Is that the d—""The dream wedding binder? Yeah."
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: wedding planner au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902769
Comments: 31
Kudos: 148





	Blue on Blue

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm so glad you don't love me  
> ‘Cause I just want to change your mind"  
> Blue on Blue - Yacht
> 
> so i've been literally spouting hundreds of words per second about modern au wedding planner eskel and wedding singer jaskier at my friend and decided to write something real so here this is. it's completely unedited and was written literally within two hours because i do NOT know how to be chill about ANYTHING. so if u notice anything awkward or weird or spelling mistakes/etc let me know!!
> 
> i told myself i wouldn't write anything real for the witcher six weeks ago and now here we are with a ship that i am thinking about 24/7. anyway i'm gay, jasker is transmasc nonbinary and wants to get railed SO badly but like in the heart. and eskel is a good boy. lambert is very sick of them not doing anything about their latent homosexual and romantic tension

“Hey Eskel, what kind of wedding would you plan if there was no upper limit to the budget?” The question falls from his mouth as Lambert is scrolling through the Netflix menu looking for something to put on. The man in question looks taken aback, but Jaskier wants to _know_. He’s drunk, and he’s smitten with his friend because he’s a _cute_ drunk, so Jaskier elaborates. “Quite literally, the sky is the limit here. If you could plan a wedding where the budget is legitimately not an issue, you had an endless pocketbook to dip into to make it happen.”

“Well… I’ve put some thought into that. Are we talking pinterest blogger with a trust fund or royal wedding?”

“Royal wedding,” Jaskier says, taking Eskel’s hand in his own and scooting closer from where he’s sat sideways on the couch with his legs crossed. “Like, whatever you aren’t spending on this wedding is going to go back into the bank account of some rich assholes who won’t ever use it. A wedding where no expense is spared, and you pay full price out of _spite_. I want to know about your dream all expenses paid wedding.”

Eskel thinks about it, and his thumb rubs over Jaskier’s knuckle before he says, “Alright, so let’s say I get engaged tomorrow. The first thing we do is determine the budget. So usually we’ll get the family together and figure out how far away the wedding is and how much each person will be able to contribute by that date. So assuming we have raided the Queen’s coffers and have an absolutely _unfathomable_ budget…”

“Completely, utterly unending budget. As expensive as humanly possible. I want to hear _everything_.” And Jaskier _does_. Because his family, though they may have loosely disowned him, still has a fund set up for his wedding by his grandmother. Though his parents have all but renounced him completely from the lineage, he _is_ still the old woman’s favorite grandchild. 

If he wants to fantasize about marrying Eskel, that is _his_ business. And if that fantasy involves knowing every excruciating and intimate detail of Eskel’s dream wedding so that he can imagine himself on the other side of the aisle with as much detail as possible? That is also his business. He wants to know what the cake topper looks like, he wants to know what the ushers are wearing, he wants to know what color the _napkin rings_ are.

“Okay, okay,” Eskel starts, putting his now-empty cup down on the table after having picked up his drink while Jaskier was speaking. “Okay, I’m not sober so I’m just running down the list of the steps we gotta plan for. Wait—”

The ‘we’ makes Jaskier’s face heat up, enough that he lets Eskel’s hand go now to lean awkwardly back so he can grab his own cup from where he set it down _way_ too far away. The alcohol burns going down, but that’s what he gets for letting Lambert pour him his mystery home brewed liquor. “Yeah, I want _every_ detail,” he says after a cough, putting his cup back down. Watching Eskel as he grabs his phone and starts opening an app, Jaskier can feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. 

Distantly, he hears Lambert choose something to watch with a deep huff, but he _won’t_ tear his eyes from his friend. Eskel too seems to miss Lambert’s mounting irritation, because he’s got whatever he needs up and he says, “Okay. So we set a date and we have to invite every person we’ve ever known.”

“I’d need at least two hundred people on my side alone. That’s my family, my friends, and probably all acquaintances which _includes_ people I don’t like and want to flex on,” Jaskier says, making himself an active participant of Eskel’s dream wedding. And if that bothers his friend with some _very_ kissable lips, he doesn’t say a thing about it.

“Make it an even three hundred if I let Geralt invite every person he’s ever known along with my other family and friends. Then we find a venue big enough to fit it all.”

“I don’t care about _big_ , I care about _expensive_.”

“Chateaux Vaux-le-Vicomte in Maincy, France expensive, or are we _really_ talking Belmond Hotel Caruso in Ravello, Italy expensive,” Eskel’s eyes are shining as he looks at Jaskier, but he barely registers the words, because of _course_ Eskel knows how to pronounce French well enough to make him weak in the knees.

“As much as I want to hear you say words in French again,” Jaskier says, outing himself about his weakness, then continues, “If the hotel in Italy is more expensive, _that_.”

“It is. They have a 900 year old church on the property, and the last time I checked, a full wedding was around $430,000.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” Jaskier almost purrs with the word, feeling fuzzy as the alcohol starts settling in his belly now. His cup is empty, he realizes, and he puts it back down on the table. “That’s a _great_ start.”

“It has 50 rooms, so if we’re footing the bill for our most important guests and we fill all 50 for the night...” Eskel trails off as he pulls up the calculator on his phone, swears as he mistypes, and then does a calculation. “For all 50 rooms to be booked, that’s another $92,500. We’re at half a million already and we’re _just_ getting started.”

Jaskier nods, feeling _giddy_ as he says, “That one, then. It’s perfect.”

Lambert groans loudly, dropping his head back against the back of the couch and then tossing the remote on the table. “ _No_ , I’m not staying here for this.” Jaskier turns his head in time to see him grab his bottle of (extremely potent) homemade hooch from the floor, pour out some more into the two empty glasses on the table, and then stand up. “You two have fun, I do _not_ want to hear about wedding shit.”

Eskel snorts but looks at Jaskier and then back to Lambert, looking torn. Jaskier, too, feels chided. It _is_ movie night after all. They did get to watch one, but it’s still early enough that usually they would hang around watching something stupid until someone called it a night. Usually Lambert, and Eskel would sheepishly leave at the same time. 

“Sorry, we can stop…” 

“ _No_ , I promise, it is much better if I head off now and leave you two to this. No hard feelings, I _swear_ ,” they both miss Lambert rolling his eyes as he heads out the front, leaving Jaskier and Eskel in silence.

A silence that stretches for a few more moments before Eskel says, “I might have a binder in my car…”

Jaskier bounces a little bit in his seat and he can feel himself smiling wide. “ _Go_. Go grab it, I want to know _every_ single detail.”

“Are you sure?” Eskel looks _surprised_ , but he’s already getting out of his seat, palming his pocket for his keys before likely remembering he’d tossed them on the small table by the door.

“ _Yes_ , absolutely _nothing_ would make me happier right now.” Jaskier says it before dramatically laying back on the rest of the couch, right into where Lambert had been sitting and left the cushion warm. “I want to know every hyper-specific detail of where my future hubby and I are getting hitched.”

The flush that flares up on Eskel’s whole upper body in an instant makes Jaskier want to get down on one knee right _now_. “I’ll be right back, then.” Eskel sounds genuinely astounded, voice slightly breathy as he seems to rush all at once, knocking into the coffee table (and nearly spilling Lambert’s jet fuel on the carpet). 

When Jaskier hears the front door shut, he lets out a shuddering breath, heart beating hard and hopeful. Ever since the Bouquet Incident, as they called it, where the bride had strong-armed the bouquet so hard that it flew across the room and hit Jaskier in the face, the nickname had stuck when Jaskier was feeling particularly amorous. As if he is not _always_ amorous. But he had somehow caught it before it fell to the floor, and Eskel had been standing behind him which was how his hands had ended up on Jaskier’s sides to steady him.

The swoon had been authentic, though Jaskier did over-dramatize it as he is known for. He leaned back into Eskel, called him his future hubby, and then the maid of honor rushed over and took the bouquet so the bride could try again. The rest of the night, Jaskier had called Eskel hubby. Even when they ended up dancing together as the reception was coming to a close. Jaskier had almost dropped dead on the spot when Eskel had cupped his cheek and said something to the effect of: if only he would _be_ so lucky. Unfortunately, he was called away to help with the groom who seemed to be puking off the balcony, leaving Jaskier to find a seat to sink down into and try not to implode.

Since then, it had been one string of romantic frustration after the other. There were no good opportunities to explore whatever tension continued to simmer between them, but still… Jaskier can’t help himself. And who would dare blame him? Eskel quite literally is the most handsome man he has ever met, kind and funny and every single good quality he can think of wrapped in one person. _Otherworldly_ hot, _especially_ with the scar, and with a little over half a head on him… _And_ the wide shoulders, the absolute sheer _mass_ of him makes Jaskier feel irresponsible. Perhaps _deranged_ , but he is also _civilized_. 

Hence this endless dance of Jaskier waiting for Eskel to make the first move, and Eskel being too polite to do so. Not to mention, he is not _blind_ , he can see how Eskel looks at him. He feels every heated stare, and he is _almost_ sure that he wants him just as badly as Jaskier wants him. There is a very loud part of Jaskier that makes him want to tug Eskel to the floor the second he walks back in the door so he can ride his dick until morning. _Fuck_ , does Jaskier want to do that, and then propose, and then ride his dick again. But if in some way he ends up being wrong, Jaskier doesn’t want to _risk_ that. 

When Eskel comes back in, it is with a bag on his shoulder that seems full to the brim. He sits back on the couch at Jaskier’s legs, prompting him to sit up, and pulls a three ring binder that is four inches thick out of the bulging satchel. “Now, disclaimer, this is the last moment you’ll be able to tell me to shut up, because I’ve been planning my dream wedding for _years_.”

“You’re gonna tell me our menu choices, and then I’m going to ruin it by saying I’m allergic to parsley because nobody is going to remember that. And then when we get our plates at the rehearsal dinner, I’m going to have an allergic reaction and die, Eskel. I’m going to _die_ right before my big day. My future hubby is going to be a widower before we even reach the altar,” Jaskier says, grabbing for his now full again cup. If he’s going to be a drunk fool, he’s going to play into it as much as he possibly can so he can let awkwardness be claimed by the alcohol. When he takes a big enough gulp to tremble just _slightly_ as it goes down, he follows it up with, “And then I’ll _never_ get to steal the microphone so I can sing you the intricate and extremely personal love ballad I will be writing for you while we’re in a room full of our friends and family. I am _fully_ entrenched in this dream wedding idea now, darling.”

Eskel is smiling, a natural grin that makes Jaskier’s heart leap into his throat. _Oh_ he is in trouble now. “Alright, alright, I’m gonna make myself a note now…” Jaskier has to watch as Eskel pulls out a pad of sticky notes from his satchel on the floor and write himself a note that reads: **Jaskier: parsley allergy** , double underlined.

“My _hero_.”

The note is stuck on a page that Eskel flips to easily thanks to the color coded tabs on the pages. “I won’t have you die before we even walk down the aisle.”

They spend _hours_ looking at every single page, Jaskier ending up pulling up the coffee table to their knees so he can lean over it and scrutinize every detail. He makes comments and asks questions, and Eskel writes himself some more notes. Every detail is revealed, even about the behind the scenes things that normally only a wedding planner would take care of. It does give Jaskier a new appreciation for how _hard_ Eskel works to make sure that brides have the best days they can possibly have with their budget. 

He has his tuxedo design picked out, but Jaskier is _very_ adamant that they will have to match so they end up with some changes to it when Jaskier spends a half an hour googling fancy suits. The ceremony decor takes a hit as well, Jaskier giving his input as to the arrangement of chairs and the adornments that go on them. Jaskier also ends up giving Eskel a twelve minute lecture on champagnes. They spend a while on the legal details, Eskel explaining the bureaucratic red tape to cut to ensure the smooth process of changing names and merging bank accounts, getting new government IDs, etcetera. The invitations though, they’re perfect. Lots of details are actually perfect, the longer Jaskier listens to him speak.

Jaskier is still a little horny, but he’s also _very_ willing to say he’s in love. His heart feels so achingly full, like if he finds even one more reason to feel like Eskel’s hung up the stars in the skies so that he may gaze upon them, his chest might burst. The fantasy of their wedding throbs with his pulse; it makes him want to cry, how lovely Eskel is.

As expected, they reach the end of the binder eventually. Whatever Lambert had picked hours ago had already gone silent after a few episodes, neither Eskel nor Jaskier letting Netflix know that they’re still watching (of course they weren’t). They both end up taking deep breaths, but Eskel breaks the silence. “And that is my dream wedding.”

Jaskier remembers, then, why he brought it up in the first place. Rather than being lost in the haze of his affections, he finally finishes the rest of his drink so he has the alcohol to back up his confidence. “Oh, sweetheart, I have some _news_ for you.”

He gets a raised eyebrow in return, Eskel cocking his head in confusion. “And what would that be?”

“It’s all yours at the low, low price of loving me ‘till death do us part. When I get married, my parents are obligated to open their wallets to me for every single expense to do with it. If you want your multi-million dollar wedding, you can have it.” 

Jaskier has told Eskel before about his parents and his family, so he _knows_ that this is not a bluff. Or at least, that the money would truly be _there_. But ever the gentleman, Eskel takes his empty cup from his hands and says, “I think you’ve had enough of Lambert’s moonshine, Jas.”

“Just keep it in mind,” he says, head _definitely_ swimming now as the liquor starts rotting through his gut. Maybe actually drinking the rest a moment ago _had_ been a bad idea. “Will you?”

“I will, but I think you should get to bed. We can talk about our wedding another time.”

Jaskier sticks his tongue out at Eskel, but admits defeat as he lets himself fall to the side. “ _Fine_ , we will talk about it later, but I don’t think I can move my legs right now so I’m gonna lay here and you can take the bed.”

Eskel shakes his head and moves the coffee table back from the couch so he has the room to _pick Jaskier up_. “I don’t think so, you’re gonna be feeling that moonshine in the morning, and you’re gonna want to feel it in bed.”

But Jaskier ignores logic and sinks into Eskel’s arms, astonishingly weak in the face of how strong he is. “Carried to bed by my hubby, how did I get so lucky?”

His only response is a hum, and Jaskier closes his eyes for the four seconds it takes Eskel to reach Jaskier’s bedroom, toeing the door open fully so he can deposit Jaskier onto the bed. The he reaches over to turn on the lamp and says, “I’ll be right back.” He keeps his eyes closed against the light, head swimming now while he distantly hears the sink turn on in the kitchen. Eskel does come back and places a glass of water down on the table, and in the morning he will find the painkillers to help ease his hangover.

The blanket comes up over him, and Jaskier sighs when the lamp is turned off. There’s a quick hand in his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, lulling Jaskier toward sleep. If he thinks he feels a pair of lips on the crown of his head, well, that is Eskel’s business.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ jennyloggins and on twitter at @somegarbageisok on main / @slimejen on fandom side acct :^)


End file.
